Stepping onto the stage, I inhale deeply before looking out at the crowd. Hundreds, neigh, thousands of ponies and griffons—students and staff of present and past, friends and what little family he had—are gathered here in the grand atrium in memoriam of Professor Calcification. With me on the stage are an older looking mare, at least a decade younger than Granny Smith of the Ponyville Apples, Twilight Velvet, the interim chancellor for the university, and, much to my surprise, Princess Luna and a retinue of Night Guards. Each of them is clad in attire appropriate for a memorial, the princess included, and I feel rather underdressed wearing the same outfit I wore to the opening ceremony—with black socks, this time—and a borrowed black beret.

It kind of bothers me that Equestria is so quick to hold a memorial for somepony, when they’ve not even been dead for an entire day, but I guess that maybe ponies are more... accelerated in their mourning. That makes sense to me, if you can believe it. Ponies live, for the most part, a peaceful and charmed existence. A natural death such as this is expected, even when it comes without warning. Rather than ruin the peaceful flow of their happy lives, they mourn quickly so that they can continue living their days in joyous celebration of the memories of the departed.

Take his wife as an example. She’s probably the hardest hit of anypony here, yet next to Princess Luna, the mare is easily the most composed pony here. Don’t get me wrong, she’s clearly upset—distraught, even—at the loss of her husband, but theres a look in her eye that states in no uncertain terms that she’s accepted this as an inevitability, and that she’s at peace with the idea because he is at peace.

Maybe what bothers me isn’t that they’re quick to mourn, after all. Rather, I think that what has me shaken is the fact that I was one of the last to see him alive and that during the time I spent with him on his last day, he bared his very soul to me. The old guy must have really left a mark on me, because after reading his goodbye letter—there’s really no denying that’s what it was, with that wording—I went to bed crying myself into a dreamless sleep.

Through all my musing, I’ve missed the opening speeches for the memorial from the chancellor, and Professor Calcification’s wife. Hell, I’ve basically ignored most of Twilight Velvet’s speech, lost in my own head, only cluing in long enough to catch the ending. “... to conclude this ceremony we have one of his students.” Turning her head away from the crowd, she bids me over to the podium with her. “Silver Script, a pony who left a big impression on Skeletal—he’d never shut up about her in the staff lounge,” she says in a tone of somber humor, eliciting some half-hearted laughs from the crowd.. “—has kindly agreed to say a few words about the Professor.”

Loping over to the podium, my heart rises in my throat. All eyes are on me, and I realize that in all of this, I haven’t even prepared a speech. Where do I even begin? “I didn’t know the Professor for very long; I don’t think any of the students he taught this year really did. Looking back at the two months spent under his tutelage, they hardly seem like enough,” I say softly into the magical microphone. “In spite of that, I’d like to think of Professor Calcification as a friend to all of his students. In spite of his age, he’s always been so hooves-on and lively in his lessons that every day in his classroom was a treat to behold. I don’t think he could have been more enthusiastic about alchemy if he’d tried. Even once classes were over, he loved to talk about it. Only he could make learning as fun a it was.” There is a chorus of agreement from the mass before me.

“It’s no secret to many of his students that I’d stick around after class,” I continue with tearful smile. “During those times, we’d simply talk and talk about how alchemy could be used. It made him so happy that I was able to share in his enthusiasm, and over that time, I dare say we bonded over it.

“Now that he’s gone, we’ve all lost something: a lover, a teacher, a friend...” I pause, blinking away a tear as I realize what I’ve really lost in his death. “Since coming to Equestria, I’ve gone through many... difficulties, familial included. The time I spend with Skeletal Calcification helped me get passed some of it. He wasn’t just a friend; he was a father figure for a very confused pony.”

It might be my imagination—and Luna knows that thing is hyperactive—but I could swear a few in the crowd are tearing up. “I think, since he had no children of his own, he might have come to see me as a surrogate. Regardless of what our relationship might have been, he told me something very important.

“Since long before her banishment, and following long after, House Xyster has looked to Princess Luna for inspiration and motivation in their endeavors as alchemists,” I murmur, darting my eyes towards the princess. I know I should feel guilty for misrepresenting what he told me, but I honestly don’t believe that taking his words and playing them in a positive light is really lying. “He told me that if he could teach Luna’s Blessed—to do something worthwhile for the Princess—his house’s efforts would be validated.”

Unable to stop the tears from spilling down my cheeks, I bow my head in respect. “We are what he means by Luna’s blessed,” I quaver in spite of myself, and for the briefest moment, I feel a reassuring touch at the back of my mind. “The alchemists he has taught, and those that we will teach, continuing to pass down our Matron’s art, are Her Blessed, and he is proud to have taught all of us. We who live... we who continue on in his remembrance bring validation to his life’s work. Though the Last Son of Xyster now rests in the eternal dream, we are his legacy, his pride. We made it all worthwhile.”

Feeling a familiar hitching sob beginning to start in my throat, I turn my back to the podium and return to the line on the stage. After a few moments, I hear stomping on the stage. A turn of my gaze reveals the recently widowed mare beating her forehooves in approval, tears absolutely streaming down her face. Past her, the Princess smiles before she too stomps her applause. One by one, everypony present in the atrium—even the bat-winged guardsponies—adds their own beating to the quickly growing applause.

Thousands of ponies stamp their hooves approvingly until Princess Luna takes the Podium. “Fillies and gentlecolts, griffon and griffoness... My loyal subjects,” she speaks, not into the microphone, but beyond it—the Royal Canterlot Voice. “In recognition of his faithful services to the crown and to Equestria, I hereby declare House Xyster forever memorialized among the ranks of the Moonblessed, the first since my own return to Equestria. Further, the classroom in which he taught will forever be known as Calcification Hollow.” Luna’s speech is met with more tearful applause, before finally everypony is dismissed.

Despite seemingly making his widow happy—I realize that in all the time I’ve spent with the stallion, I’ve never once asked his wife’s name—something inside me feels hollow. On some emotional level, I know that I’m still in shock over his sudden demise. Still, there’s a part of me that makes me wonder... if I hadn’t told him the truth yesterday—if I’d just remained silent—would he have kept on living, or did he know his time had come?

Shaky legs carry me toward the stairs to my dorm. Though it’s still so early, I’d like nothing more than to crawl back in my bed and sleep until Luna’s moon has graced the sky twice more. It is as though this experience has drained me of both willpower and physical strength; at any moment, my legs could fold beneath me before crying, “No more!”

Upon reaching the descent into Sagittarius Hall, however, I meet a little snag. However, by little, I mean royal, and by snag I mean... snag. Standing before the stairs into the dorm are Princess Luna, her bat-winged entourage, and the Professor’s widow. The Princess and the mare appear to be talking, but quickly turn to me as soon as I draw into hearing range.

Recognizing that I’m about to have a royal audience, I snap into a quick bow before the Princess. “Your Highness,” I answer quickly. Turning to the elder mare, I add, “Ma’am.”

“Please dear, call me Petalwood,” she replies softly with the barest hint of a smile. “Ma’am makes me feel so decrepit.”

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Petalwood.”

“Don’t be, dear,” Petalwood murmurs. “It was his time. Besides, I wanted to thank you...”

A blush creeps across my face and I shy away. “I didn’t do anything though...”

Surprisingly, the widow laughs. “Oh you can stop with the charade.” Looking back at her, there’s a genuine smile on her face. “In all my years, I don’t know how many times the old bag o’ bones told me about old House Xyster. Never in that time, have I heard him tell it like that. You lied to all them ponies—”

“I’m sorry!” I squeak, shrinking back. For whatever reason, I expect to be set upon by Luna’s guards.

“—and I wanted to thank you for it.”

“I—what?” I’m confused, I mean to say.

“Ol’ Skelly was always so smart about alchemy, but dumb as a sack of rocks about everything else. I like to think he had only two smart bones in his entire body.” Ick. Not nice, granny. “Poor bugger was so deluded by visions of ingratiating himself with Princess Luna here that he never thought anything beyond ‘teaching her student’ could ever win her favor. In spite of himself, he allowed himself to try and play favorites with students that he thought would please her highness.”

Princess Luna nods. “It’s a very brave thing to lie to thousands of ponies... Stupid, but brave,” the princess quips. “... and at a memorial ceremony, no less. Still, you have done him a great honor. You could have told everypony the truth—that he wanted to bring validation to his bloodline’s desire for greatness, and that you were the ‘Blessed’ he spoke of—but you chose to respect their memory of him, and reinforce that memory with a beautiful lie...”

Shaking my head, I smile. “It wasn’t a lie, really. It’s just a truth that he never realized, a truth that fulfilled that desire in the end.”

“So it is,” Petalwood croaks with a sad smile, tearing up once more. “So it is.”

“Get up, Silver,” a voice commands.

“Eat a dick,” I grumble, not bothering to open my eyes. Instead, I roll over, facing the inside of my bed alcove. “Five more minutes.”

The voice—Gale—groans. “It’s been ‘five more minutes’ since yesterday afternoon, hon. You’ve got your first day of the safety course today.” She smacks me on the back gently, an action to which I growl slightly. “If I have to drag you out of that bed, I will.”

That much is true. It’s a threat that she’s followed through on at least twice before, so I suppose it’s more of a warning than anything else. Still, I really don’t want to wake up right now, instead I’d like to go to sleep. More to the point, I haven’t been asleep at all. Since crawling into bed yesterday after the memorial service, I haven’t had a single moment of real dream-laden sleep. I’ve managed to drop into some light trances close to the morning. As a result, my head feels like it’s been clasped in a rather tight vise.

“Ugh, fine!” I roll back to face her, red-eyed and miserable. “I hate Monday mornings.”

“You look like shit, Silver,” the griffoness replies. Thanks, Gale, you certainly know how to make a mare feel pretty... and make her think things that make her uncomfortable with herself. “It’s Wednesday, by the way.”

Tumbling out of the bed and dragging to the bathroom, I mutter, “It’s an expression.” Propelling myself onto the counter, I frown at the mare in the mirror. Sure as was spoken from the bird’s beak, my boyishly short mane—courtesy of my firework dance and Miss 'I can fix it!' back in the other room—is a mess, there are dark rings under my eyes, and I look fit to murder somepony.

The mane is no problem; with just a shower and brushing, I tuck it away under a green bandana. Nopony will ever be the wiser about my awful bed-mane. The bags under my eyes and my sour expression from lack of sleep, however, are a bit more difficult to hide. I’ve never been the sort to rely on makeup—natural beauty and all that—and griffonesses apparently just naturally have tinted feathers like eye-shadow, so I’m shit-out-of-luck there. Luckily, I found some pretty nice aviators the last time I went off-campus, which was admittedly quite a long time ago.

As it goes, a pony in a bandana and shades just doesn’t look right without some form of clothes fitting the theme of her accoutrement. Thankfully, another of my bargain-bin purchases that has been sitting in my chest of clothes and assorted belongings seems fitting enough for the outfit: a black pleather vest designed for pegasi. So what if I got it in the foal’s section? It even has all sorts of useful pockets—weird, considering ponies don’t have fingers, but there’s that whole weird hoof-grip business that I simply don’t question—including ones big enough for my compass.

As I root through the chest, looking for the aforementioned vest, my hoof strikes something solid. Surprised, I pull it back, gently pushing aside the articles of clothing to reveal a large—compared to my hoof—silver box with a cord looped around it. For several long seconds I stare at the nearly forgotten keepsake—a digital camera. It was something I’d brought along with me to Equestria, tucked away in my messenger bag so long ago. I remember wanting to take pictures of Ponyville before things went to shit. Now it’s just a useless paperweight that I can’t even use. Sure, it probably holds a charge, just like Lyra’s undying laptop—the logistics of why an Earth-born battery operated device holds infinite charge makes my brain hurt—but I don’t have the magic or the digits to operate the thing. What was even on that memory card?

Pulling the device out, I set it on the desk near my bed, before returning to the chest for my vest. Once that’s out of the way, I don my outfit, fill my pockets, and strap on my saddlebags before making for the door. “You’re going out there looking like that?” Gale asks, lounging near her own desk in the opposite quarter of the room. “Someone might think you’re looking for a fight.”

Turning my head to her, I incline my nose toward the floor just enough for the aviators to slide down to the end of my muzzle, revealing my red-rimmed eyes. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from experience, ponies have two reactions to trouble: avoid it, or sit back and watch.” I turn back to the door, pressing it open with a hoof. “I’m not in the mood for anypony’s horseshit today, and I think this should be enough to get the point across.”

As the door swings shut behind me, I hear her muttering, “How is it even possible for her to be cute and intimidating at the same time?”

Normally, my walk through the campus toward the alchemy classrooms draws a few lingering stares for one reason or another. “There goes the mare that shamelessly eats meat,” or “Isn’t she the one feuding with Princess Aqua Regia?” are some common whispers I usually hear from passersby, but today ponies are literally avoiding me—no whispering, no nothing.

In a way, the lack of whispering is kind of nice, since I’m not constantly being reminded that the meat-eating dwarf pony stands out in the crowd. I mean, it’s still pretty damn obvious that their attention is on me, but it’s more so that they don’t bump into me. The quiet and clear path gives me time to think uninterrupted before I get to class, which is the main plus.

I mean, I know for a fact now that Chill Beat and Gearalt are conspiring to get me to sing some Neighponese song in the mess hall. It turns out that the griffon bard has even been consulting Ice Blossom for song ideas. At breakfast, I actually confronted him about the whole thing, rather than just letting them hit me with it a week before show-time. I managed to argue that if I’m to sing a song I don’t fluently speak the language of, I should be able to pick a song to sing as well.

The only downside to confronting him on the issue is that now I’m stuck going to evening practices once a week, and I have to come up with a song by the end of the week. That’s in addition to doing coursework and this five-day safety course, which without passing I cannot continue on in this curriculum. Of course, it’s something to keep me socially active, right?

Coming up on the classroom outlined in the papers Twilight Velvet gave me the other night, I steel myself for the inevitable, “You, why are you late?” or “Take off those sunglasses,” upon entering the room. Contrary to my expectations however, there’s no admonishment from a teacher or anything—just an earth pony mare in a lab coat standing beside a desk full of beakers, staring blankly at the classroom. The room I’m in, instead of desks, has a simple layout of a science-lab, the walls lined with jutting perimeter counters—gas valves and all.

Not so lucky for me, I seem to have run incredibly late, and everybody else is seated. “Welcome to Alchemy Safety, day one,” the mare says in a wry tone. “Since we’ve just finished attendance, I’m going to assume you’re Silver Script. As glad as I am that you are somewhat prepared—inappropriate as your eye-shields may be—please try not to be late in the future.” She nods me toward the full lab. “Since there is only one more seat available, I’d ask you to please sit down beside Princess Aqua Regia.”

So badly do I wish to let the shades slide from the apex of my muzzle and glare at her, but I know that no amount of attempting to intimidate the mare will do me any good, so I do exactly as I’m told, and sit down next to the scowling noblemare. Maybe she hoped I’d drop out. Perhaps she’s pissed that she just barely passed the last course. More than likely, though, she’s completely unamused with having to sit beside me, dressed as I am. I do, after all, look like the sort of hoodlum that would be highly inclined to rob her.

Once I’m seated, the instructor smiles. “Now, I know all of you have read up on the effects and varying degrees of toxicity, but to truly recognize the effects of alchemy induced toxicity, you must observe and experience them to truly know it,” she explains. “The first step of safety in alchemy is knowing what can go wrong.”

She turns to the rack of beakers, and pulls a box from behind it with her teeth. “You will be paired up and lots will be drawn. The scraps of parchment will be your instructions for intake of the contents of these beakers, a diluted poison intended to inflict the effects of alchemical toxicity at an accelerated rate.” With a bit of a cruel laugh, she adds, “You’ll each take turns drinking your share, and observing.

“Use this opportunity to get a feel for how the different stages feel and look,” she says, the box now clutched firmly between her teeth, already sauntering over to the nearest counter. “Even knowing the toxicology of different ingredients, you can never truly predict how strong a potion’s side effects will be without a test kit, which you will not always have on hoof.”

As the teacher makes her rounds, I do my best to not look at the mare beside me. Just sitting beside her is draining my stamina and patience, and coupled with my exhaustion, I get the impression that maybe I shouldn’t be ingesting poisons purposely. Heck, I’m not even sure I could trust myself to read the instructions properly.

When she finally makes her rounds to my counter, I’m trying my best not to close my eyes and rest my chin on my arms. Still, I take my paper without prodding, and Aqua does the same, admittedly with her magic. Heavens forbid she put her face in the same box that I just did... right? Okay, that sounded unnecessarily dirty, especially regarding her.

Once the teacher makes her rounds with the poison, I take the time to open my instructions Mil-Low - Drink 10 ml potion per 3 kilos body weight. The instructions are a bit smudged, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it says. So, if I’m 60 kilos, that’s twenty times ten mil... Christ, 200ml? Isn’t that a bit much?

For the first time since I sat down, I look imploringly. “Would you please pour me two hundred millilitres of the potion, Princess Regia?” It takes a whole lot of self control not to call her Molestia.

Surprisingly, there are no sour quips or condescension when she speaks. “Certainly,” she replies, levitating the glass container and pouring the green frothy liquid into a large graduated cylinder off to the side. I’m honestly a bit suspicious by how cordial she’s being, but with an exam mark like hers, she probably recognizes that she can’t be the least bit inattentive. “Enjoy,” she adds in a hollow tone as she passes the cylinder over with her magic.

Rather than indulge her by cringing away, I simply take the glass tube between my forehooves and chug it. The potion itself tastes... like green tea mixed with apple juice, which is to say it tastes like piss. It fights the whole way down, and everywhere it touches inside feels numb after a moment.

For the longest while, nothing happens. I just sit there, staring at Aqua Regia from behind my aviators, expecting the worst from her the moment I turn my back. The worst, however, seemed not to come from the unicorn, but from within. All at once, my stomach clenches violently, and my head begins to pound. I get the slightest impression that something—mucus, I hope—is streaming down from my nostrils, but I’m too busy paying attention to all the other sensations in my body.

My muscles all cramp as though I’ve just run five consecutive marathons, making my breathing terribly difficult. At the same time, my heart is just pounding away in my ears like one of Chill Beat’s little drum solos. It’s beating loudly, and it’s beating fast. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

… and then nothing. I look to Aqua, panicked. “Help!” I attempt to rasp, pulling a hoof to my chest before keeling over. Fuck... I misread that instruction, didn’t I? Mid-low toxicity symptoms should be dry mouth, headache, and mild discomfort, not cardiac arrest!

I look up at the mare through dim eyes as she finally realizes I’m not fucking around. All at once, she shouts for the professor’s attention. “Professor, we need a dose of Mother’s Kiss here!” she cries out cooly. “This stupid little mare misread her instructions!” Then, she leans close and whispers, “I’m not going to let you sabotage me by dying on my watch.” Oh gee, thanks. I was worried you might actually have a soul.

Eventually, my vision is obscured by somepony’s chest as I’m rolled onto my back, and a bottle is forced into my mouth. My strength at this point is all gone—why have I not already blacked out?—and I’m unable to swallow, but that seems to be a non-issue in a room that is statistically a third unicorns. Somepony is oh so kind enough to open my esophagus to allow the curative in.

Now... If only somepony would be kind enough to notice I’m in cardiac arrest and maybe give me a heart massage.

With a gasp, I spring awake, rolling off of whatever I’d been laid upon. Looking around, I find myself in an unfamiliar place. My best guess is that this is some sort of nurse’s station—judging by the curtain partition surrounding the bed I just rolled out of—and I was brought here after the incident in class. Why I wasn’t taken to a hospital, I have no clue, but...

“Shit! Class!” I croak, trying to stand on rubbery legs. It’s no use though. Even though any effects of toxicity should have been eliminated by the Mother’s Kiss potion, my entire body feels numb. It’s not that I’m tired—if anything, I feel well-rested. It all just feels off. “Fuck, after an incident like this, I’m probably failing instantly.”

“Why is that?” a mare’s curious voice asks from behind the curtain. The partition is pushed aside just enough to allow entrance to the instructor for the class. Concern is evident on her face, but there’s something else... apology? Guilt?

“I must have misread the instructions on that slip of parchment,” I reply glumly. “That was what should have been a lethal dose of poison... Unmistakably extreme toxicity.”

The teacher nods somberly. “Indeed it was lethal, and some fault does lie on you,” she concedes. “That slip of parchment, however, was a case of scribal error. The instructions should have read per 8 kilos body-weight, not three. In recognition of my grievous mistake, you get an automatic pass for the test you would have faced at the end of the day.”

“At least everypony got a good show,” I reply in dry humor. “Not too many ponies get to see somepony nearly die in the name of education.”

My dry humor brings a slight smile to the mare’s face. “Indeed. Not many ponies end up sleeping half the day away after nearly dying like that.” She manages to chuckle in spite of me. “Most ponies feel rejuvenated by the Mother’s Kiss.”

I roll my eyes, struggling once again to rise to my hooves. “I haven’t slept in about two days. Sue me.” This time, I succeed at getting up, and retrieve my belongings from a pile at the foot of the bed. “Thanks for letting me sleep though.”

Trotting out the door, I hear her shout, “In the future, please do not show up in my class looking like a punk, or I will dock you points.”

Since the session in safety is over, I see no reason to stay here... wherever here is. As it turns out, when you’re dragged off to a nurse’s office or station while you’re sleeping, you don’t get a good feel for where it is. I’m not even sure I’m in the same building any more. For all I know, I’m in another building entirely right now.

The hallways of wherever this is are completely empty as I wander on. It’s actually a bit disconcerting that there is nopony around, as that implies that it is close to evening by now. Why would I even have slept that long? Oh yeah! Practically two days without sleep does that to you. Wonder why I’m not hungry, though.

Thoughts of food are completely forgotten as I round a corner and bump into the feathered chest of a griffon. Looking up, I’m surprised to see Gale standing over me. Her beak—things should really not work this way, but they do—is contorted in concern as she looks down at me.

“Oh, hi!” I greet her cheerfully. “Did you come all this way for little ol’ me? You didn’t have to do that.”

My cheerful greeting certainly has her off balance if the drop of her jaw is any indication. “Yeah, um... I was called here because you almost died. Something about drinking too much poison?” I can’t help but chuckle at her, eliciting from the griffon a confused, “Why are you laughing?”

Moving around her, I began trotting down the hallway she just came from. “I just think it’s funny the way these ponies think,” I answer earnestly. “I nearly die after an accidental overdose in a safety exercise, and instead of taking me to a hospital, I’m dropped off at a nurse’s station to sleep it all off.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I see her frowning. “In case you forgot, your class is right near medical classrooms,” she says, unsure of my positive mood. “A unicorn professor for one of them probably scanned you, determined you were fine and sent you off to that room for observation. I was called to take your unconscious flank back to the dorm room.”

Huh. I’d completely forgotten about unicorns and their invasive magics. That would certainly explain the lack of hospitalization. After all, that way, I could be used as an example for not only extreme alchemy poisoning, but also a living training dummy for a diagnostician.

“Say, are you sure you’re alright?” she asks, placing a claw on my withers to stop me. “You nearly died today, and you’re acting like you’ve just been promised a trip to the ice-cream shop.”

Oh, that’s too much to pass up! “Ooh! Is ice-cream the reward for almost becoming a Darwin Award recipient? Yay!” I cheer, sitting down to clap my hooves. If Gale looked concerned for me before, she’s looking at me like I’ve just lost my mind... again. “Oh come on, lighten up. I only went into cardiac arrest. It’s not like anything bad happened.”

“B-bad!?” she squawks incredulously. “Your heart stopped, you idiot! How is that not bad? Stop acting like you simply fell down the stairs!”

Jabbing her in the ribs with an elbow, I crack a smile. “Hey, stairs are nothing to joke about. Last time I had a run-in with stairs, I nearly had my mind replaced with a silly human-obsessed unicorn’s,” I answer. “There are worse things than death, Gale, believe me.

“So my heart stopped and I was in excruciating pain—big deal!” Stomping my hooves before me, I look at her indignantly. “It was a damn accident. Shit happens and then you maybe die. Other times, you’ll have some unfortunate things happen. I don’t want ponies feeling bad for me just because I had a bit too much poison or because I’m a dwarf. Bad things happen in life.

“Unless something like Aqua happens to me again,” I say, flushing with embarrassment and shame. “I don’t want ponies feeling bad for me. Practically nothing bad could happen that is worse than being raped again, or being torn from another world...”

“I think we need to have a talk,” Gale says firmly.

Author's Notes:

Sorry about the delay here. Some things happened and I wasn't able to get this out nearly as soon as I'd like, but what can you do, right? A bit of a fun chapter to write, had to be done. The usual.

Thanks of course go to E3gner and NightmareKnight for editing as always. I'd look like a rambling idiot without you guys.